


I'm a Funky Fried Piece of Man Meat

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Innuendo, Love Confessions, M/M, Relationship Advice, Songfic, but I love it and him, half-crack tbh, oh how the turntables rotated, this is charlie's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: Eddie asks Buck for help asking a guy out. Buck's advice is ... unconventional, but not unhelpful as it turns out.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 316





	I'm a Funky Fried Piece of Man Meat

**Author's Note:**

> I love Drew Gasparini. A lot. And he's got this song, and I think it's pretty much perfect for Buddie, so I screamed to Charlie about it for a bit, then made him wait a while until I got my shit together, and now there's this. Check the song out here: https://youtu.be/FFRVlkpUnXI

Eddie drains the last sip from his beer bottle and stands up, running his hands down the thighs of his jeans. 

“Be right back, man. Gotta take a leak. I’ll get the next round?” 

“Sounds good.” Buck sets his own empty bottle on the bar beside Eddie’s. “You can buy, but I’ve got to pee too.” 

It would be weird, Eddie thinks, if it were anyone other than Buck. If he were out for drinks with Chim, or Bobby or anyone else, it would be weird to walk to the bathroom together, to stand side by side at the only two urinals, sidestep to the sink in almost perfect unison.

But it’s Buck. He can’t think of a single thing that could make things weird between the two of them, even as he wracks his brain while he watches Buck in the mirror as they wash their hands. 

_Except the secret he’s keeping._

Buck looks up then, catches him watching and pulls a face. He crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out, and Eddie can’t help but flick water at him as he laughs. 

“Hey,” He keeps looking at Buck’s reflection, turning the mood back to something serious. “Can I ask you something?” 

His timing couldn’t be worse; they’re standing in the bathroom at a bar, the kind of place where every surface is just a little bit sticky no matter how many times you wipe it down. He’s not even sure he wants to say anything, thinks he might want to keep his secret to himself. But before he can backtrack, Buck is meeting his gaze in the mirror and he looks so _earnest_ that Eddie can’t bring himself to skirt away from at least part of the truth.

“Of course, Eddie. Anything.” And he can tell that Buck means it, can tell that there’s nothing he could say that would make Buck regard him any differently right now. At least, nothing that Buck can think of. But Eddie’s pretty sure that what he’s about to say could ruin everything.

“You’ve like … you ask people out, right?” The question sounds awkward as it tumbles out of his mouth. It’s not quite what Eddie meant to ask, not likely to get him the answers he’s looking for, but he didn’t give too much away, so he supposes it’s better than if he’d shown Buck his entire hand. 

“Yeah,” Buck’s reflection stares at his, and his brow furrows as he tries to figure out why Eddie might be so antsy about his question. “Why?”

“Like … guys?” Eddie bites his tongue, tries not to eye Buck warily while he waits for a reaction. This is the closest he’s come to telling anyone that he’s maybe interested in dating men, short of saying it to his own reflection in the bathroom mirror at home.

(Hindsight, he hadn’t planned this moment to be such a parallel to that one, but the similarities are sort of comforting. It’s always easy to talk to Buck, but talking to mirror-Buck is even lower stakes, like he can pretend he’s leaning against his own counter, not the cold porcelain of the bar sinks while he talks to himself in the third-person.)

“Sometimes.” Buck’s eyes narrow, and Eddie might be imagining it, but he’s pretty sure Buck’s fingers tighten where he’s holding himself up against the edge of the counter. “That’s not a … problem, is it?” 

“No! No, of course not.” Eddie stumbles over himself to reassure Buck. He hadn’t been planning to do this tonight, hadn’t even considered that Buck might find his questions offensive. And he doesn’t want to offend Buck. Not ever, but especially not now, when he’s so close to putting everything on the line. “I just need some advice.” 

They’ve been in here too long, have spent too many moments standing in front of sinks that aren’t even turned on. Their hands are hardly wet anymore, even though neither of them have reached for a paper towel. If anyone has noticed, there’s really only one conclusion they can come to, one reason two men would walk into a slimy bar bathroom at the same time and overstay their welcome there.

But Buck doesn’t move, so neither does Eddie. Instead, he tries to look like he’s not holding his breath, like he’s not waiting for Buck to shove him across the room and storm out, or – worse yet – give him friendly advice as nothing more than a friend.

Which, really, is looking like the more likely path, given that Eddie asked him for advice on picking up guys, _without managing to mention that Buck is really the only guy he’s interested in picking up._

“OK …" Buck trails off and motions with one hand for Eddie to continue.

“How do you do it? I mean, how do you just … ask a guy out?”

“Same way I’d ask anyone else out,” Buck shrugs. “Be straightforward and prepared to handle the rejection.” 

Right, of course. Eddie knows that’s Buck’s standard. They’ve spent enough nights sitting together at the bar for him to know that Buck likes to walk up to a woman and ask if she’s interested in joining him for a drink. He’s explained it before, that it means he gets turned down pretty often, but also that everyone’s expectations are clear right out of the gate.

“No, not … I can do that part, the-the actual asking.” Eddie shakes his head and tries again. “How’d you … your first time, how’d you get the balls to just walk up and ask him?” 

Buck hasn’t said anything about Eddie needing advice talking to men, and Eddie is pretty sure that it’s a good sign. After all, he’d also quietly confirmed that he’s _interested_ in men, at least occasionally. He hasn’t said anything about being interested in Eddie, but Eddie hasn’t said anything about being interested in him either. 

And Eddie is *very interested* in Buck.

“Oh, that?” It can’t have been more than a couple of seconds, but Buck’s response pulls Eddie back to the present. “Easy. I get funky fried.” 

“Excuse me?” Eddie blinks his eyes, tries to school his features. He’s been doing some … independent research, late at night, under the cover of darkness and a private browser. And it’s not like he knows everything – not even close, if he can’t even ask a guy out – but he’s pretty sure he knows what he’s into, and he doesn’t remember seeing anything about “funky fried” in the search results.

“Funky fried.” Eddie keeps watching him in the mirror, and he can see the moment when Buck realizes that he may as well be speaking gibberish. “It’s this thing Maddie taught me in high school. I was nervous, a lot, and she was like the only person I could talk to about … everything.” There’s something in the way he says ‘everything; that makes Eddie want to know more, but he knows that this isn’t the time. 

After all, if he plays this right, he’ll have plenty of chances down the road to learn everything about Buck.

“But anyway,” Buck continues. “She told me that it would help me to say something really ridiculous before I had to do something that scared me. That way, whatever happened, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’d say all day. Pretty sure there’s exactly no evidence to back it up,” he chuckles. “But it helped. Helps, if I’m being honest. I, uh, I still do it.”

“You … get funky fried?” He knows it’s what Buck had said, but Eddie still isn’t sure exactly what it means.

“Yeah. You just look at yourself in the mirror and say it.” 

“Say what?”

“’I’m a funky fried piece of man meat who gets the loving every time.’” Buck at least has the decency to look embarrassed when he says it, his face flushing red in a way that gives Eddie some very _indecent_ thoughts to contend with as he watches his friend in the mirror.

“What?” He tries to hide the crack in his voice, but there’s no mistaking the alarm and confusion on his face. 

Hell, he can see it on his own face, looking back at him in the mirror. But who can blame him? He just asked his best friend to help him ask a guy out, and all he got as an answer is to “get funky fried.” It’s not the worst advice he’s ever been given, but Eddie has a feeling that it’s in the top five for least helpful. There’s no way that he’s going to be able to ask Buck out just because he said something weird to himself first.

It’s almost like Buck can read the panic in his eyes, though, because he sidesteps just a little bit closer, close enough that Eddie thinks he can feel the heat off of Buck’s body. 

They’re not actually standing that close, but Eddie will take anything he can get, especially because he’s still half-terrified that Buck is making this whole thing up, just trying to get a laugh out of Eddie saying something stupid. Which wouldn’t bother him ordinarily, but tonight the stakes are high enough that he doesn’t think he could handle that from Buck. Any other reaction, he can work with. But laughter?

Well he might just die on the spot.

“C’mon, just try it. It’s not like you’ll be _less_ confident after.”

And then Buck is standing right behind him, fingers wrapped around his biceps, and Eddie swears that the walls start closing in until all he can focus on is how that Buck’s touch burns his skin in the best way. He’s turning Eddie just slightly, just enough that he’s looking at himself in the mirror, not the space beside him where Buck had been standing. 

But he doesn’t let go, leaves his hands searing Eddie’s arms, and he’s sure that everyone will be able to tell exactly where Buck had touched him. 

Eddie’s weak in the face of this, can’t resist the one thing Buck has asked him to do tonight. 

So he says it, opens his mouth and lets the words fall out.

Or, tries to anyway.

“I’m a fried piece of funky meat man-”

Buck cuts him off. He’s smiling, but he doesn’t laugh and for that, Eddie is grateful. 

“Hang on, dude. Try it again. ‘I’m a funky fried piece of man meat who gets the loving every time.’”

“I’m a freaky fried-”

“ _Funky_ fried.”

“Man meat?” Eddie gives up on the repetition, because he knows what comes next, and he’s so very confused. It’s supposed to be nonsense, sure, but he just can’t picture Maddie talking to her little brother about his ‘man meat’ when he was in high school.

“Not that kind of man meat, don’t be disgusting.” Buck lets go of one arm just long enough to swat Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie feels his face start to burn. The heat is less than it is where Buck’s fingers are still pressing against his skin, but not nearly as comfortable. “Now try again.” 

Right, right. He’s supposed to be making a fool of himself by saying something stupid, not by falling even more in love with Buck than he already is.

He takes a deep breath and focuses on his own eyes in their shared reflection.

“I’m a funky fried piece of man meat who gets the loving every time.” His voice is stronger this time, and he has to hide the way his body tries to shiver when Buck’s fingers flex on his arms.

“Better.” Buck is close enough behind him that Eddie can feel his breath on the back of his throat. “But you’ve gotta really believe it. You are the funkiest piece of man meat to ever be fried!” 

_Well, when you put it like that …_

Eddie takes a deep breath and decides that he doesn’t have much more to lose. Maybe Buck is right; maybe screwing up the phrase three times cut through enough of the tension that he doesn’t have to worry about Buck’s reaction to what he’s about to say.

Or maybe it’s just Buck, the way he’s always made Eddie feel like he can say anything, how he’s never judged him or held a grudge for anything. They’ve been through way worse together, so why would Buck draw the line here?

Eddie knows what he has to do, flexes his fingers at his side and steels himself.

“I’m a funky fried piece of man meat who gets the loving _every_ time!” He doesn’t flinch as he turns around to face Buck and finishes, with the same breath. “Go out with me.”

The light in Buck’s eyes has to be enough to illuminate the entire city, Eddie thinks. He’s grinning ear to ear, this huge, natural smile that Eddie can’t help but return, and shaking gently where he’s holding Eddie by the shoulders.

“There you go! That’s perfect! See, you’re already more confident! Just, uh,” Buck exaggerates a wince, and Eddie chuckles before he realizes that the sound is coming from his own chest. “Next time, maybe hype up in the bathroom, and then wait until you’re actually in front of the guy to do the asking.” 

_Wait until he’s …_

Eddie shakes his head and breathes out a laugh when he realizes what conclusion Buck has reached. He reaches up and grasps Buck’s forearm with one hand, running his thumb in gentle strokes across the smooth skin. 

“No, Buck, _go out with me._ ” Eddie tightens his hold and watches the realization dawn across Buck’s face. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just stares at Eddie and smiles. If it were anyone other than Buck, if the circumstances were any different, Eddie is pretty sure he’d be uncomfortable under the intensity of Buck’s stare. And if that didn’t do it, the way he’s just smiling, not saying or doing anything else? That would probably make his skin crawl. 

But here and now? Here and now, he’s happy to give Buck all the time he needs to process Eddie’s declaration. 

He’s also very glad that it doesn’t take long, because the next thing he knows, Buck is breaking eye contact to stare at himself in the mirror over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie knows Buck isn’t talking to him, almost feels like he’s intruding on a private moment, even though Buck is still holding onto him. But he’s still drawn to him, unable to stop himself from watching the way Buck’s lips move with the quiet conviction of his whisper.

“I’m a funky friend piece of man meat who gets the loving every time.”

Then he fixes his stare back on Eddie and everything goes right with the world when he nods.

“Yes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> See? He's funky fried. Also, I'm not a man, and not usually looking for loving, but I HAVE been known to use this same saying as my own little pep talk, and it ... doesn't not work?


End file.
